


Learning to Fly

by Mossyrock



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (sorry), Alternate Universe - Human, Fear of Flying - Prompt, First Time, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Meet-Cute, Poor Crowley is a scaredy cat, just fluff, not sex, on a plane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 23:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20515292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: Anthony Crowley hasn’t flown before. He’s not a fan of hurtling through the air. Until he takes his first flight and is comforted by an angel.A meet-cute with strangers comforting each other.For my Ineffable Husbands bingo prompt - Fear of Flying





	Learning to Fly

Anthony Crowley had never been on a plane before. Or he had, but very soon after he had disembarked and cancelled his entire trip. Because, he thought, nothing could be worth hurtling through the air at hundreds of miles per hour, thousands of feet above the ground. He didn’t understand how planes worked, but he suspected that even if he did, he’d still hate flying. In fact, he’d probably hate it more, if he knew exactly how much pressure each bolt and screw was under.

But this time, he didn’t have a choice. He had to get back to London by tomorrow, or he’d miss his cousin’s funeral. And after missing his uncle’s funeral, missing this one was not an option. His mother would have his hide and he’d rather the next funeral not be his own.

But that meant that he had to get himself on a plane, from Rome to London. The very thought made him want to vomit.

He joined the lines of other travellers as he checked in, dropped his bags, went through security and at the gate. Everywhere he went, people were lining up and pushing in and hitting each other with baggage. He felt claustrophobic and he wasn’t even prone to claustrophobia.

He shuffled into the plane and down the aisle, pushing past screaming children and oblivious adults. By the time he got to his assigned seat, the two other seats in his row were already occupied. His seat, the window, was being occupied by a sleeping woman. He didn’t mind. If he was going to die, he’d rather not see the ground or the water rushing up to meet them.

The other person, who sat on the aisle, was a smiling man, about his age or a few years older, who had shockingly bright blond hair. But Crowley suspected that it was natural, rather than the hideous bleached monstrosity a lot of people sported.

“Excuse me,” He murmured.

“Oh! You must be the middle seat,” The man said in a posh British accent as he stood and shimmied past him.

Their bodies passed within millimetres, as the aisles were still packed with people and baggage. Crowley almost thought he could feel the man’s warmth through the many layers they both wore, ready to land in the cold and miserable capital of the cold and miserable England. The stranger wore a rather old-fashioned cream waistcoat and suit. It was rather adorable.

Crowley couldn’t help but notice the man’s beautiful, perpetually smiling and bright blue eyes as they likewise assessed him.

The man was gorgeous. A little plumper than Crowley was, but Crowley was all angles and bone. He wasn’t underweight, but he wasn’t what his mother would have called “well-fed”.

This kind stranger also smelled nice, but that was beside the point.

Crowley plopped into the uncomfortable seat, sitting on the buckle and wincing. He wasn’t sure how anyone could sit, let alone sleep in these seats. They seemed designed to be as uncomfortable and small as possible. His knees hit the seat in front, so he had to bend in some weird ways. He worried he was sprawling too far into his neighbour’s space, but when he turned to ask, the man had his head buried in a book, happy as a clam. Crowley would move if he needed to, if the other man objected, but otherwise, he’d stay where he was.

The doors of the aircraft were closed and the flight attendants began their presentation. Crowley had never paid more attention to anything in his life. Not that it made much difference, in case of an actual emergency.

He was also dismayed when he looked around to find that no one else in his eyesight was paying even the slightest bit of attention. Many had headphones in and were peering at their devices. Last he knew, all electronics were supposed to be turned off. He tried not to panic. If it was an issue, the crew would stop the plane, right? Right?!

He wasn’t prepared for the plane to start taxiing and when it turned onto the runway, he gripped the armrests like he’d never gripped anything before in his life. The man beside him gave him a sympathetic smile but went back to reading almost immediately.

The engines began to whine as it warmed up and began to get faster and faster. He closed his eyes. He almost wanted to pray – not that he was a religious man.

He felt the plane leave the ground and with it went his stomach.

There was a whine of electronics. He whined along with them.

“Not a frequent flyer, I take it?” The kindly man asked.

“No,” He managed from between grit teeth.

“May I ask you, when is the last time you saw a white horse?”

Crowley opened his eyes and looked at the other man. Obviously, he was insane. Shame. All the cute ones were.

“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. When was the last time you saw a white horse?” He asked again.

He was clearly determined to get an answer. Crowley began racking his brains for any time he’d ever seen a white horse. It must have been years, at least. Perhaps somewhere in the English countryside, probably.

“I’m not sure. Probably a few years.” He shrugged. The other man beamed at him, as if the answer made his day.

“Are you feeling a bit better now?” He asked.

“I… Yes,” He admitted. He hadn’t realised that he’d stopped hyperventilating. “How did you know how to do that?”

“Well, it’s a trick my friends have used on me before. I tend to be a little anxious sometimes. It’s supposed to stop hiccoughs too.” He blushed. It made Crowley smile.

“Well, thank you. You’re an angel.” He gave him a grin. His most charming grin.

“You’re welcome,” He stuttered, blushing deeper. He dropped his bookmark, which fluttered to the ground. Both men reached down to grab it, hands meeting as they touched it.

“I’m sorry,” The man apologised awkwardly.

“It’s fine. My name is Anthony.” He waited until the man had slot the bookmark back into his book, before extending his hand. The other man took it in his warm palm and shook it gently.

“Azariah,” He smiled.

Crowley wanted to groan. Even his teeth were perfect.

He couldn’t help but feel he was getting a little too old to be getting crushes on random strangers. But for this man, Azariah, he might just make one last exception.

“That’s a nice name. Different.”

“It’s Hebrew. Biblical. It’s a variation of Azazel, the angel.”

And smart too. Crowley had died and gone to Heaven. This man couldn’t be real.

“See? You_ are_ an angel,” He leant in to whisper in the angel’s ear. He was treated to a nervous giggle, but Azariah didn’t pull away, or look offended.

“So, you live in London?” Azariah asked.

“I do have an apartment there. But I try to spend as little time there as possible.” At the other man’s confused look, he backtracked. “I mean, I like to travel as much as possible. I tend to get restless staying in one place.”

“But you don’t fly?” He seemed genuinely curious and interested. 

“I prefer to take the scenic routes. Trains, cars, buses, boats... Anything that doesn’t hurtle through the air at an insane speed.”

“You don’t think flying is scenic?” He nodded out the window.

Crowley braved a look around their sleeping companion to look out the tiny oval window. He had to admit, the view was magnificent, with the sun off the bay and rolling hills and cliffs.

It still made him feel sick though.

“It’s alright. What about you, you a Londoner?” He changed the subject, desperate to stop his heart from beating quite so hard.

“I have a little bookshop in Soho. It’s not much, but I like it…” He gave a little grin and looked sheepish.

“I’d like to see it.”

“I have a card, somewhere…” Azariah leant forwards and rummaged in the leather briefcase at his feet. With a triumphant ‘Ah-ha!’, he produced a very professional golden embossed business card.

A.Z Fell and Co.

“I also collect rare and unusual books.”

“That’s… Interesting.” It was. Crowley wasn’t much of a reader, but he could learn to be, if it made this angel smile at him. He’d learn to do anything if it got him a grin from this Azariah.

“That’s why I was in Rome…”

The plane suddenly lurched and Crowley closed his eyes against the wave of nausea. He couldn’t throw up in front of the adorable man. He might have a snowballs chance in Hell anyway, but his chances would be worse if his breakfast made a reappearance.

“I was searching for a few rare books. Of course, I barely read Italian, but they’d be worth it, just for the collection. This one, for example…”

Crowley zoned out, happy to listen to the excited voice tell him all about first editions and rare copies with spelling mistakes, or publisher mistakes. He seemed enthusiastic and knowledgeable about books. It was endearing. He even had Crowley laughing at some of the errors that had made it past the editors.

Before long, they were landing. Crowley gripped the armrests again, and this time, Azariah held his wrist. Not his hand, but he placed his hand over his clothed wrist. It was enough.

“I’ll see you at the bookshop?” Azariah asked shyly as they parted at the luggage carousel.

“I’ll see you there.” He gave the other man a wink and saw as he blushed as he turned to go.

* * *

True to his word, Crowley slunk into the bookshop the next week. It was a charming little place, with piles and shelves overflowing with books here there and everywhere. If there was a filing system, it wasn’t obviously apparent. It had character, just like its owner, that had captured Crowley’s attention so immediately and completely.

“Hello?” He called. He looked around the shelves, searching for an angel amongst the tomes.

“Oh, hello!” Came the response from the back of the room. Crowley followed the voice until he saw Azariah sitting in the back, book on his lap and a cup of tea on a table beside him.

“Anthony! You came,” Azariah said somewhat breathlessly.

Crowley knew how he felt. His memory hadn’t been generous enough. In the soft lamp light, the man glowed. He’d also shed his outer jacket and had his shirt rolled up his forearms.

Crowley wanted to weep at the beauty. If he could paint, he’d get his brushes right this second and capture the man in front of him as best he could. Though he thought that not even Da Vinci could do him justice.

“Of course, I came. I said I would.” He looked around the shop, trying not to be caught staring slack-jawed like an idiot.

“It’s good to see you. And on solid ground this time.” He placed his book on his desk, carefully closed and far away from his tea.

“I um… I brought you this,” He said, pulling a small book from his back pocket. It was a little religious text he’d picked up in Israel a few years ago. He couldn’t read it, but the pictures had intrigued him.

Azariah took it from him and his face lit up.

“Oh, my dear! This is fantastic!” He smiled the widest, happiest smile yet at Crowley, who couldn’t help but grin back, no matter how much he fought to look cool. He supposed that ship (or plane) had sailed when the other man had seen him sweating and shaking over a simple plane ride.

“Would you like to have lunch with me? Is there someone to watch the shop while you’re gone?” He hadn’t seen anyone else, but in the labyrinth of the shop, he might have missed someone.

“It’s fine. I’ll just shut for lunch. It’s not a busy time anyway.” He was pulling on his jacket as he spoke. Crowley’s heart soared. He felt like he could fly. 

“How about the Ritz?”

* * *

Afterwards, they walked through St James’s Park. If Azariah’s hand shyly snuck into Anthony’s as they gazed at the ducks, Crowley didn’t mind.

Maybe flying wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of my bingo prompts I'm posting, but I've finished 15 of them so far. 
> 
> Azariah means help, or help of God, and is often portrayed as a guardian angel, so I figured it fit. Although it's based on the angel Azazel, who was an angel that fell, so just ignore that bit. I wanted to go with something different than Ezra, which is the go to human name for Aziraphale, I know. Dare to be different.
> 
> Comments are love. Also, I have no beta, so any mistakes, let me know.


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